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The University College, Colombo,and going off to a British University

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Excerpted from the Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris

A few months after leaving Royal, I entered our University College under the Principalship of Robert Marrs who lectured to us on Philosophy. I was then a first year Arts student. Professor Pakeman spoke on the British Constitution and Warden Stone of St Thomas’ on Latin and Greek, and Roman and Greek History.

But alas! My stay at University College was to he very short indeed – just two months. I lived at the Union Hostel at ‘Alcove’ in Turret Road. The warden was Mr C. Suntharalingam. I got precious little to eat, and it was no fault or negligence on the part of the warden. It was just bad manners on the part of the hostellers. I was always a bit late, about five minutes, for meals. We sat in messes of four. When we had egg curry for lunch, there were four eggs in a dish in each mess, similarly with prawn curry, there were sufficient prawns for four.

But when I came and sat down in my usual place, the egg, which was my portion, had gone; who took it, I was never able to find out; the prawns had all gone and I had only the gravy. At tea time, the butter and milk had all been consumed and I had to be satisfied with bread, jam and a cup of plain tea. At dinner it was the same, and this occurred day after day. The three others had no manners and no consideration for the fourth fellow who was a few minutes late.

I am not here condemning all the hostelers; there were well-mannered, well-behaved students. Unfortunately, I got into a bunch of greedy, voracious and selfish students, which made me extremely unhappy. We used sometimes to get parcels of fruits etc. from our parents -oranges, mangoes, mangosteens – which were much appreciated. When I received such a parcel, I always shared it with my friends. There was one student who locked up all the fruits he received in one of his drawers and never failed to take the key with him even when he went to the toilet!

As I said, I was very unhappy. It was not my idea, even as a young fellow, of what a University should or ought to be, and I told father so and suggested that he send me to England to study law. My father did not oppose the idea, but consulted Mr (later Sir) Susantha de Fonseka who readily acquiesced, and said it was a wise move. I had now to find a place in a college in Oxford, Cambridge, London or one of the other Universities.

Father accordingly went with me to Sir James Peiris, in his time President of the Cambridge Union and, at the time I went, Vice-President of the Legislative Council. Father made the mistake of starting the conversation saying that he had come to ask for a favour. Sir James was not exactly angry but looked very surprised that my father, who knew him so well, should make such an irregular request. Sir James “did not do favours” or abuse his position.

There was a look of disapproval on his face and my father hurried to tell him what the favour was – a letter from him to his College in Cambridge to secure me a place there. “Oh Edmund,” said Sir James, “if that is all, I shall gladly write.” Unfortunately for me, his College had no vacancies, and I joined the University of London. At one time I had received the princely allowance of five cents a day. Now I was to be sent, at 19, to England at seven pounds a week. It turned my head and made me nervous. I had never handled so much money before.

And now arose a problem. Father did not like my living in ‘digs’ in London. He wanted me to stay with an English family and enjoy good English home life. As the Mudaliyar of the district, he knew the Assistant Government Agent Mr E. T. Dyson, a good and kindly Christian gentleman. Dyson liked a simple life, and was a stranger to tobacco and drink. When father asked him whether he could find me a good home in England, he had said “Yes”. The lady (my good luck) happened to be holidaying at Peradeniya at the moment, and father, mother and I were invited to lunch. We arrived at the appointed time, introduced ourselves and, over lunch, terms were agreed upon. When I reached England, I was to live in her house in Sutton in Surrey, about 15 miles out of London.

Came sailing day. All Panadura seemed to be at the jetty to say “Good Luck”. Rubber was then, (in 1928), nearly three rupees a pound and each one at the jetty gave me a gold sovereign. I got over seventy in all at a time when England had gone off gold and an Englishman had not seen a sovereign since the Great War of 1914.

Friends and relatives departed after kisses, tears and farewells, but two good friends came on board later, my teacher Victor C. Perera and my classmate, Eustace Pieris. I had the Captain’s permission to keep them as my guests to dinner on board. No extra charge was made and I therefore gave the dinner steward a sovereign as tip. He looked at me amazed, did not seem to know what he had received, put it in his palm and pressed it against the table top. He had never seen a sovereign.

On another occasion in London I purchased some gramophone records and paid a sovereign. I returned home with the records and change to find that change had been given me for ten shillings only. I went back to the shop the next day and mentioned the matter to the shopkeeper. He apologized, gave me an extra ten shillings and said he could not make out a sovereign from a half-sovereign.

The voyage itself was uneventful, except for the fact that Sir Wilfred and Lady de Soysa with all their children including the eldest, Harold (later Lord Bishop of Colombo) were on board and looked after me. I have not met two more gracious and kindly persons than Sir Wilfred and his good lady. One hour with the children and you could not but succumb to their charm. We disembarked at Marseilles, the de Soysas going on holiday to Nice in the South of France and I taking the night train to London via Calais and Dover.

On the platform at Marseilles, a Ceylonese who said he had been resident there for several years and ran a restaurant, approached us and introduced himself. When he found that Sir Wilfred and party were going to Nice and that I would be alone waiting a few hours for the boat-train to Calais, he asked me to come along with him to see the city. Sir Wilfred, who knew I had the sovereigns on me, got behind the man and signaled to me not to go. I ‘did’ the city with an officer of the American Express who brought me back to the station in good time and put me in my wagon-lit when the train arrived.

Sutton in Surrey

The night in the sleeping-car from Marseilles to Calais and the journey from Dover to London were comfortable. So was the Channel crossing. I kept gazing out of the window at the green fields, the cattle pasturing, the huge advertising boards and the neat little houses flying past as the train sped on. When the countryside gave way to back-to-back houses and overcrowding, and the number of lines began to increase at an alarming rate and the train reduced speed, I knew we were approaching the terminal station of Victoria, but it was a long time before the train finally pulled up at the station.

I was met by my uncle, D.S. Jayawickrama and Mr Amos of Richardson & Co. Mr Richardson was to be my Guardian and banker for the duration of my stay.

I spent my first night in a guest house and next day went shopping. The vastness of London frightened me. The buses, the noise, the several lines of traffic, the tall, big-built policemen in the smart helmets, the neon signs, Piccadilly Circus – this was all so different from our small Colombo and its Fort Station, our ramshackle buses and our puny policemen. I arrived in London in February 1928 when it was bitterly cold, but the cold did not affect me. After a few days in London, I moved to Sutton Lodge, the place which Mr Dyson had found for me.

I found myself in a large country house with about 10 bedrooms, standing on seven acres of land, with its own tennis court, croquet lawn and kitchen garden. The house was situated on the narrow London – Brighton Road and the entrances to the house were so narrow that a large car could not be turned in but had to be parked on the road.

The lady in charge, Miss Overton, aged about 60, was educated at Oxford at a time when Oxford did not confer degrees on women; but I believe that on the Oxford Examination, Dublin University conferred a degree. She was a heavy smoker, a charming lady. Years later, she revisited Ceylon and spent some days at Panadura as a guest of my parents.

On the day of my arrival, a Danish girl, aged 19 arrived, and, from then onwards, it was a case of one or two new arrivals each day, all females of about the same age but from different countries, until the house was full. Except for the butler, I was the only male in the house. These girls, all from well-to-do families and with about the same allowance as I received, came about February each year and returned to their homes by Christmas.

English was compulsory in all their schools. They spoke English, but not as the Englishmen spoke it. In most of their languages, as in Sinhala, Latin and German, the verb comes at the end of the sentence. For example, the German girl will ask me “Will you with me for a walk come?” All the girls came to learn idiom and, when Miss Overton was not free, I used to take the lesson which meant reading a bit of Shaw or Galsworthy and explaining it to them.

In this way, during the three years I stayed at Sutton Lodge, I was privileged to enjoy the friendship of these girls of many nationalities, some of whom still write to me at Christmas. Amongst them, as far as I can now remember, were Margaret and Trudy Brunner, sisters (Switzerland), Greth Ahner (Sweden), Sombor Marta (Hungary), Szmidel Zsuzsi and Verona Mermelstein (Czechoslovakia), Zofia Gabryszewska (Poland), List Pospichil (Austria), a beautiful girl from Vienna for whose picture a toothpaste company offered her about £ 250 for permission to use it for purposes of advertisement, Ilse Wolff (Germany), Nina Rissoni (Italy) and Idelette Allier (France), whose father was a great friend of Mahatma Gandhi, and Ramain Rolland.

It was a delightful experience. We were all part of the establishment. Miss Overton gave us a completely free hand about the house. If we felt hungry, we raided the larder and sliced a portion of ham or cheese. The Swiss girls, who consumed enormous quantities of potatoes, were always hungry. After dinner, I was made to go out into the garden and shake the apple and pear trees and bring the girls some fruit to eat. Sometimes I would take about four of the girls about a mile down the road for bacon and eggs – the equivalent of our egg hoppers. But they never let me pay the entire bill. I had to keep a careful account of the expenditure and this was equally divided on our return home and I was reimbursed.

It was so at table also. As the only male I was expected to have my cigarettes and pass my case round the table, and with thirteen girls, a packet of twenty did not last very long. But I was never out of pocket because every one of the girls kept me supplied with ample stocks to supply them at table!

There was one thing that irritated me: Miss Overton insisted that I should dress for dinner. The girls all changed into long black dresses and I could not protest as the lone male. The butler was superb.As I said before, the Swiss girls were great potato eaters. It was the custom of the house to put new arrivals on either side of Miss Overton who presided at the head of the table with me at the other end. It was also the practice, with 13 girls, Miss Overton and myself, fifteen in all, to make for a fish course, thirty pieces of fish and thirty potatoes with other vegetables. On the first day of the Swiss girls’ arrival, they were served with fish, and then with the potatoes, and one of the girls asked “Is this all for me?” “Good Lord, no,” said Miss Overton, “Take only two.” It was after that that we started our tramp for bacon and eggs.

In my third year at Sutton Lodge, I had male company. There was a French boy Pierre Dujardin, a Spaniard and two Dutch boys. There was also a Siamese Prince who said that his father, a Sultan, had many wives and 52 children.

The Swedish girl, Greta, asked me within a week of my arrival at Sutton to come with her and take her round London. It was a case of the blind leading the blind. Armed with road maps and bus routes we set out and, after seeing the sights like the Tower of London, the Mansion House, the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace and Queen Victoria’s statue from the top of an open bus, we arrived again at Piccadilly Circus for lunch.

I was a stranger in the place and walked into the biggest and cheapest eating place there – Lyons Corner House, which had three floors, each seating about a thousand persons with an orchestra on each floor, and open day and night. It was difficult to find a table, but after much walking we found one at which a gentleman was finishing his peach melba. With his permission, we sat down opposite him, I facing him and Greta next to me.

When he had finished his meal and paid the bill, he rose and, in rising, tilted the small table with the result that plates, glasses and cutlery went crashing on the floor. The balance of the peach melba went on Greta’s expensive blue frock. Being in unfamiliar surroundings, I became very nervous as a thousand faces turned round to stare at Greta and myself. I called the waitress and asked that Greta be taken to the ladies’ room to tidy herself.

In the meantime the officer in charge of the floor dressed in a morning suit, walked up to the table and inquired of the gentleman “I presume it was an accident, Sir”. “Not at all, not at all,” he repeated. “Then will you please come with me,” said the official, and took him to the Manager. I was there seated alone, eyes still staring at me, with the fellow in the Manager’s room and Greta in the ladies’ room. It was a most unpleasant experience within seven days of my arrival in England.

Greta returned, her dress clean but spoilt by ice-cream stains. The floor manager returned with the brute and addressing me said, “Sir, this gentleman says he did this deliberately. In the circumstances, it is for the lady to take legal action if she considers it to be necessary.” I explained the position to Greta. I was only a witness, and as no damage had been done to my clothes, Greta said in her Swedish English ” I have been in your country only a few days. I don’t want to go before the ‘Judge’. I can buy another frock but this man manners I can’t teach. Ask him go.” And there it ended. It was the story of a man who was jealous that a “nigger” could take out a girl of family and status whom he was not able to take out and entertain.

Before these girls returned to their homes each Christmas, they all left their addresses with me and invited me to come and spend my long vacation with their parents. They were all people of means; but I had not the money to travel all the way across Europe from Norway down to Italy. I therefore selected three places – France, Germany and Switzerland.

Apart from the girls I have spoken of, there was for a short time at Sutton an elderly Indian lady, the wife of a Judge of the High Court of Madras. On the day of her arrival, as I was about to go on one of my evening walks to the pub, she asked me to be kind enough to bring her a pint of brandy. When the dinner gong sounded, she was absent and I was asked to go and see what the trouble was. There was no reply to my knock or her door. I opened it and saw the brandy pint empty on the carpet by the bedside and her head hanging half out of the bed. I reported that the lady wanted to be excused as she was not feeling quite well. The next day she repeated her request to me and asked me to dispose of the empty. I had to refuse.

In France, I stayed in a delightfully lovely place called Hardelot Plage. ‘Plage’ in French denotes the sea beach. It was about 12 miles from Boulogne and thousands of acres of land there had been bought by my friend Pierre’s father. Apart from his father’s house there were only about 10 other houses, a guest house, a golf course with a hotel called ‘The Golfer’s Hotel’ and of course, the promenade about a mile and a half long.

With my Kandyan walking stick and a turban of seven yards of georgette with a tail about eighteen inches long, I used to take the prom every evening in the company of Pierre’s sister and a few other girls. An Indian friend of mine had taught me how to tie a turban and I never wore a hat after that. When I finally left England, each of my seven turbans in different colours was cut in half, ironed and given to the girls to make frocks!

Pierre’s family were simple, homely and dignified. His sister insisted that I teach her how to tie the turban, which I did. Her father, an extremely wealthy man insisted that I spend my last two days in France – I was there for about three weeks – at his town house in Lille, to which place I was driven in a luxurious car.

At table, the French people had a custom entirely different from the English. I found a spotless table cloth, two glass blocks on either side of the plate and one fork and knife. The English array of silver was not there. The food was excellent and dinner consisted of several courses. After each course, the plate would be replaced, each person placing his fork and knife on the glass blocks in order that the table cloth might not be soiled.

On my second day in Lille and my last day in France, Pierre’s father, at dinner, paid me, as a student, the biggest compliment that has ever been paid to me. He asked the butler to go down to the cellar and bring the two oldest bottles of Champagne. These, covered with dust and cobwebs, were left standing for some time on the table before they were opened. A toast was drunk to my health. Next morning, with much regret, I bade farewell to the family and was driven to the station to entrain for Heidelberg in Germany.



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Putin in Modi’s India

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Prime Minister Modi with President Putin

That was no ordinary greeting; on the frosty evening of last Thursday, Indian Prime Minister Modi embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin in a bear hug at Delhi airport and, within moments, presented him with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian. The choice of gift was laden with symbolism—echoes of Robert Oppenheimer, who drew profound philosophical reckoning from the same text, declaring, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” after witnessing the first atomic explosion. Was Modi signaling the weight of nuclear-age responsibility to Putin, or was this a deliberate affirmation of India’s comfort in maintaining ties with a pariah state under global sanctions?

The streets of Delhi, festooned with Russian and Indian flags and dominated by colossal billboards of Modi and Putin, suggested more than ceremonial protocol—it was pageantry of influence, an audacious statement of India’s strategic independence. In that gesture, New Delhi appeared to assert that moral judgment from the West would no longer dictate its choices, and that the Indo-Russian relationship, forged during the Cold War and hardened by decades of defence dependence, remains a pivot capable of unsettling the established order in South Asia and beyond.

Putin’s first visit to India in four years, coinciding with talks in Washington over a possible Ukraine peace framework, came at a time when New Delhi is walking an increasingly delicate tightrope between Moscow and Washington. The optics of the visit—from ceremonial receptions at Rashtrapati Bhavan to summit talks at Hyderabad House—reflected not merely diplomacy but an overt projection of influence. Modi’s presentation of the Bhagavad Gita in Russian was emblematic: a centuries-old text of dharma and duty, layered with the moral weight of choice, now inserted into the theatre of high-stakes realpolitik.

Putin himself, in an interview with India Today, described India as a “major global player, not a British colony,” praising Modi as a “reliable person” who does not succumb to pressure. These words, spoken against the backdrop of US sanctions, EU manoeuvres to leverage frozen Russian assets for Ukraine, and growing Chinese assertiveness, highlight India’s determination to claim agency in a multipolar world where Washington and Brussels no longer set the rules unilaterally.

Historically, the Indo-Russian relationship has oscillated between strategic necessity and opportunism. Declassified CIA documents from the 1980s reveal the delicate dance India played with the USSR during the Cold War. Indira Gandhi’s approach, as the CIA observed, was staunchly nationalist and fiercely protective of India’s regional supremacy. The United States feared that India’s policies towards its neighbours, coupled with its Soviet alignment, could destabilize South Asia while simultaneously granting Moscow a strategic foothold. Today, the echoes of that era reverberate: New Delhi remains Moscow’s top arms buyer, leases nuclear-powered submarines, and maintains energy ties that have drawn ire from Washington, while ensuring that its engagement with Russia does not fully alienate the United States or Western partners.

What is important to see here is the economic metrics. India-Russia trade in 2025 is estimated at roughly $18 billion, heavily skewed in Moscow’s favour due to energy imports, while India continues to negotiate with the United States to mitigate punitive tariffs, including a 25 percent secondary tariff imposed over India’s purchases of Russian oil. Both nations aim to expand bilateral trade to a target of $100 billion by 2030, a goal that falls just two years after the next general elections, when Prime Minister Modi is widely expected to contest again despite the symbolic 75-year age limit for party leadership—a restriction that has largely been treated as political theatre and quickly forgotten. It is worth noting that India’s trade deficit with the US has ballooned to approximately $42 billion in the last fiscal year, reflecting both structural imbalances and the impact of these punitive measures. Remittances provide a partial counterweight: Indians working in the US send home over $90 billion annually, dwarfing Russian remittances, which are negligible in comparison. This indicates that while India faces challenges in trade metrics, its diaspora injects substantial financial resilience into the economy.

The summit also highlighted defence collaboration in stark terms. India’s $2 billion lease of a Russian nuclear-powered attack submarine, with delivery scheduled for 2028, signals an unprecedented deepening of underwater capabilities. The vessel, unable to enter combat under lease terms, is intended to train crews and refine India’s nuclear submarine operations—a critical step for strategic deterrence in the Indian Ocean amid rising Chinese and US naval competition. Russia, despite sanctions and Western pressure, continues to sustain a military-industrial complex capable of producing tanks, missiles, and drones at accelerating rates. As reports from Ukraine’s Center for Analytical Studies and Countering Hybrid Threats indicate, nearly half of Russian defence enterprises remain unsanctioned, exposing the limitations of Western punitive measures. In this context, India’s engagement with Russian defence capabilities is both a practical necessity and a symbolic assertion that strategic imperatives can outweigh Western orthodoxy.

Sanctions, however, remain a persistent backdrop. The European Union, under Ursula von der Leyen, has attempted to deploy emergency measures to convert frozen Russian assets into loans for Ukraine, challenging EU treaties and raising the prospect of legal confrontations with countries such as Hungary and Belgium. The United States, meanwhile, has explored using the same assets in US-led investment frameworks to facilitate reconstruction or political leverage. India, observing these efforts, has maintained a stance of strategic neutrality—resisting calls to condemn Russia while advocating for diplomacy, and emphasizing that selective sanctioning by Western powers is inconsistent and self-serving. Putin, speaking to India Today, noted that Washington and Moscow presented papers in parallel but reached no compromises, and highlighted that over 90 percent of Russia-India transactions are conducted in national currencies—a subtle yet potent challenge to dollar dominance.

The optics extend into nuclear and high-tech collaboration. India is developing nuclear-capable submarine-launched ballistic missiles, advancing its underwater fleet, and exploring high-tech partnerships with Russia, recalibrating the strategic environment in South Asia. Putin’s rhetoric that “Kiev is the mother of all Russian cities” and his framing of Russia’s role in eastern Ukraine resonate with historical narratives of great power assertion, yet they also serve as a conscious projection of strength aimed at partners like India. Modi’s reception was far from ceremonial; it underlined a shared understanding that global power is increasingly multipolar and that alliances must be flexible, resilient, and insulated from Western censure.

Even in the economic sphere, India challenges conventional assumptions. While the trade deficit with Russia persists due to energy imports, India’s broader engagement with global markets—including remittances from its diaspora and ongoing negotiations with the US—allows New Delhi to balance sovereignty with strategic interest. Putin’s discussions emphasizing bilateral trade growth, high-technology collaboration, and future energy projects further solidify this interdependence. The bottom line is clear: the India-Russia partnership, far from being a relic of Cold War calculations, has evolved into a sophisticated framework for navigating sanctions, economic competition, and regional security challenges, and it may yet redefine the balance of power in South Asia.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
in New Delhi

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Lalith Athulathmudali: an exceptional minister who managed time and got the best out of his team

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Lalith Athulathmudali

His hallmark was efficiency, wit and much more

I would now like to devote some space to Minister Athulathmudali and how he ran his Ministry. His was a disciplined approach to work. Everyone knew that he was very happy in his previous portfolio of Trade and Shipping, where in addition to numerous achievements he had steered through Parliament path breaking legislation to modernize these sectors. The Port Authorities Act; the new Companies Act; the Intellectual Property Act; the Consumer Protection Act; and many others were evidence of significant productivity.

Therefore, many thought that he would be unhappy in his new portfolio. In fact some one asked him this question one day, in our presence. His reply was characteristic of his professional approach to work. He said that the Ministry he was given did not matter. Whatever Ministry, hie was given, it was his duty to comprehend the issues and productively address them. “Even if I was given the Buddha Sasana Ministry, I will still find plenty to do to improve matters,” he concluded. This spirit and this approach illuminated the work of the Ministry. I have yet to see anyone, apart from a Minister, who budgeted time so rigorously.

He desired to pack value to every passing minute. He was the only Minister, I knew in nearly 37 years of public service, who always fixed a starting as well as a finishing time for all his meetings. Perhaps the only meeting where he could not have a firm grip on time was the Cabinet meeting. There were no welcoming speeches or votes of thanks in his regime. He came to a meeting and got straight to the point. He despised visibly the sycophantic panegyrics which had become a part of the culture of welcoming speeches and votes of thanks.

He used to say publicly that we had become a society of humbugs and lick-spittles. He wanted none of it. With him performance was all. You either kept to his pace of work and requirement for relevancy in all matters, or you were quickly marginalized. To some of us, who had cultivated a life long habit of hard work, and of being up to date, it was both pleasurable and at times even exhilarating to work with him. The lazy or the unprepared had to encounter him with considerable dread as a companion. Not that he was ever harsh. He did not raise his voice, or even scold. He had the capacity to marginalize and dismiss you with wit and verve.

Mr. Athulathmudali just did not have time for pedlars in excuses or shirkers. Again, this did not mean that he expected us to be superhuman. He was a quick judge of the genuine and the credible. He was well aware that those who work hard and take scores of decisions a day would sometimes make mistakes. That was to be expected, provided however that they were not due to gross negligence or egregious blunder. Reasonable errors of judgment were a different matter provided of course they were not too frequent. With him all the officers knew what to expect.

I often wondered whether in Mr. Athulathmudali’s case, his intense preoccupation with time had something to do with the near death experience he suffered when he was seriously injured in a grenade explosion in Parliament. Those who rushed him to hospital on that day said that they could feel no pulse. He himself later said that he went beyond and then returned. My opportunity to work closely with him as Secretary was after he had undergone this experience. Everyone knew of course that he was a quick decision maker and an efficient Minister even before this incident. But I have no means of telling whether this obsession with time to this degree was a post incident reaction or not.

Linked together with this preoccupation with time was the intensity of his desire to be completely up to date both on matters relating to the subject areas of his Ministry as well as all aspects of current affairs. He regularly read the major current affairs magazines and journals. He read rapidly and was therefore able to pack in more into his reading time. He almost always read in the car, a habit which I shared with him. On one occasion, on a trip outside Colombo, he invited me to join him in his car for the journey back. After about half an hour’s conversation, both of us settled down to read, for I too always carried a stock of reading matter in the car. Some cannot read in a moving vehicle. They get nausea if they try. I have been fortunate that this does not happen to me, because I have finished whole books, whilst commuting to and fro.

The alternative would have been vacantly gazing on familiar sights. To round up this aspect of Mr. Athulathmudali’s character, one thing more needs to be said. He was the only person I knew who nearly always carried a World band radio in his brief case. He used to briefly interrupt meetings some times in order to catch the latest news bulletin from the BBC, Voice of America or some other station. Such was the importance he placed on being completely up to date. I hope all these do not convey an image of some grim automaton. That would be far from the truth.

His was a complex character. It was in fact fun to work with him. We got through discussing serious subjects with a considerable degree of wit, repartee and light banter. He encouraged criticism and dissent. But you had to have an arguable point and be prepared to sustain the argument with him. He also insisted on politeness in conversation and in argument. I myself as well as some of the senior pfficials of our team regularly argued with him. Both sides enjoyed this.

Mr. Athulathmudali created the conditions that made us feel comfortable arguing with him or dissenting. In this process, we were treated as equals. Mrs. Bandaranaike was another one of those persons who welcomed an argument with her officials, and did not try to stamp down dissent. She too, like Mr. Athulathmudali had high regard for such officials, a regard which she carried with her well past her own political vicissitudes.

Main areas of focus

Mr. Athulathmudali focused on two main areas. The first area related to the numerous operations of the Ministry. These Included a close and detailed pursuit of the progress of the two main paddy crops in the seasons of Maha and Yala; the review of the position from time to time of the situation in regard to the production of subsidiary food crops such as chillies, onions and potatoes, the review of issues relating to what were called minor export crops such as coffee, cocoa, cardamoms, cloves and cinnamon; the addressing of major issues relating to timely water distribution, pest control, etc; urgent issues of agricultural marketing and the roles of the Paddy Marketing Board, the Co-operatives and the private sector; problems in regard to food buffer stocking; issues relating to milk production, and so on.

These areas were covered in detail by the overall official team of Additional Secretaries, Directors, Heads of Department and myself. We had a system of regular meetings at various levels, culminating in a few large meetings chaired by me, at which issues that could not be addressed at lower levels were brought up for discussion and resolution. Meetings chaired by the Minister served two purposes. They kept film fully briefed and up to date. Also residual problems that could not be resolved at official level were taken up in these fora. Often, problems discussed with him by us had a political or important policy element. On all other matters we decided freely and without interference. The prevailing environment led to easy information flows and speedy decision making. The Minister would have countenanced nothing less.

His second area of concentration was on research, development and quality improvement. Here, unlike on operational matters we did not have several layers of meetings. These meetings were single overall meetings chaired by the Minister himself with all the relevant actors present. Whatever the subject area discussed at these meetings, the Minister wished to have his four State Ministers present. This was done for two reasons. In the first instance, he wanted his State Ministers exposed to all areas and aspects of the Ministry. They already had some exposure at Mini-Cabinet meetings. But these meetings were generally on operational and co-ordination issues and not on quality and research.

Secondly, the Minister followed a policy of recommending to the President that each one of his State Ministers act in turn for him, when he was out of the country, beginning with the most senior of them, and following subsequently the order of seniority. This was another reason why he wanted them to know everything that was going on in the Ministry. The Minister followed the same principle in regard to the State Secretaries, when I had to be out of the country.

What were some of the areas that the Minister took up for regular discussions at these special meetings? They consisted of issues such as the stagnation in rice yields over a considerable period of time; new varieties of rice being developed; issues such as Nitrogen fixation in plants and the reduction in the use of chemical fertilizers; the possibility of introducing better varieties of maize; issues relating to the fragmentation of cultivable land, especially paddy lands and its impact on production, productivity and long term sustainability; issues relating to the growing and the use of soya, and the question of Sri Lankan food habits in relation to its consumption; issues of post harvest losses and possible remedies; issues relating to growing for a market and the relationship that should be developed between the producer and the buyer; matters relating to quality control at all levels, and a number of other matters.

These meetings were extremely interesting. They were attended by senior scientists, researchers, agricultural economists and marketing experts. The Minister was greatly exercised with the central issues of high quality research, bringing the findings of such research to the field, and obtaining a detailed feedback from between research and growers back into the research process. This was a virtuous circle, he wished to encourage and to improve. But in this, all of us were to suffer bitter disappointment.

The link between research and the field and back to research were the army of agricultural instructors. They were an old and a tried and tested institution. They were a highly trained staff with a high degree of professional pride in their work. In fact, Sri Lanka had the reputation of having one of the best agricultural extension systems in the whole of Asia. But along with the President’s Janasaviya program of poverty alleviation arose the necessity for much larger numbers of Grama Sevakas or village level officers. The agricultural instructors were diverted for this purpose.

In spite of all the reasoning we could adduce, the President and his advisors thought that these officers could function in a dual capacity. The passage of time clearly revealed that as foreseen by us, they couldn’t. Thus was broken a tried, tested and an effective system. The Minister was more cynical than angry. He regarded the action as an act of irresponsibility and vandalism. So did everyone connected with agriculture.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Peiris) ✍️

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How climate change fuels extreme weather:

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A landslide in Sri Lank (Photo: Sri Lanka Red Cross)

What Sri Lanka’s recent disasters tell us

Sri Lanka has always lived with the moods of the monsoon. For generations, people have grown used to seasonal rhythms of rain, wind and sunshine. Yet what the country has witnessed in recent months feels different. The storms have been stronger, the rainfall more intense, the destruction more widespread and the recovery more painful. The nation has been battered by floods, landslides and hurricane force winds that arrived with little warning and left thousands struggling to rebuild their lives. Scientists say this new pattern is not an accident of nature. It is a direct outcome of the world’s changing climate, which is heating the atmosphere and oceans and turning familiar weather cycles into something far more volatile.

To understand why Sri Lanka is experiencing such severe storms and flooding, it helps to begin with a simple idea. A warmer world holds more energy. When the atmosphere and ocean temperatures rise, they behave like an overheated engine. The monsoon winds strengthen. Rain clouds grow heavier. Sea levels climb. All these changes amplify the forces that produce extreme weather. What used to be occasional, manageable disasters are turning into regular and overwhelming events.

One of the clearest links between climate change and extreme weather is found in rising ocean temperatures. The Indian Ocean is warming faster than most other major bodies of water on the planet. This has serious consequences for Sri Lanka because the surrounding sea regulates the island’s climate. Warm oceans feed moisture into the atmosphere. This moisture then forms clouds that can trigger heavy downpours. When ocean temperatures climb beyond their normal range, the atmosphere becomes supercharged. Rain that once fell steadily over several days can now fall in a matter of hours. This explains why many parts of the country have witnessed sudden cloudbursts that turn roads into rivers and fields into lakes.

Floods in Sri Lanka

Warmer oceans also influence wind patterns. A heated sea surface disturbs air circulation, sometimes producing swirling systems that carry destructive winds and torrential rain. While full scale cyclones are less frequent in Sri Lanka than in parts of India or Bangladesh, the island is increasingly experiencing hybrid storms that bring cyclone like winds without being classified as named cyclones. These storms uproot trees, blow roofs off houses and knock down electricity lines, making post disaster life even harder for affected communities.

Another major factor behind Sri Lanka’s recent extreme weather is the shifting behaviour of the monsoon. For centuries, the island has relied on two monsoons that arrive at predictable times. Farmers, fishermen and traders built their lives around this rhythm. Climate change has disrupted this familiar pattern. The monsoons are becoming erratic. They may arrive later than usual or withdraw too early. In some years they bring too little rain, causing droughts. In other years they arrive with overwhelming intensity, bringing rain far beyond the land’s capacity to absorb. This unpredictability makes it difficult for people to prepare. It also increases the risk of disasters because infrastructure, agriculture and drainage systems were designed for a different climate.

In many regions of Sri Lanka, the land itself has become more vulnerable. Rising temperatures and unpredictable rainfall weaken soil structures. When long dry spells are followed by sudden downpours, the earth cannot hold together. Hillsides become unstable and landslides occur with devastating speed. Villages that once felt safe now face new threats as slopes collapse without warning. These disasters are not simply natural. They are intensified by human activities such as deforestation, poor land management and unplanned construction. Climate change acts as a catalyst, magnifying these risks and turning minor vulnerabilities into life threatening dangers.

The Sea level rise adds yet another layer of concern. The coasts of Sri Lanka are home to millions of people, as well as vital industries such as fishing, tourism and trade. Higher sea levels make coastal flooding far more common, especially when combined with storm surges. During recent storms, waves pushed much farther inland than usual, damaging homes, shops and fishing equipment. Saltwater intrusion also harms soil and freshwater supplies, threatening agriculture in coastal zones. With sea levels continuing to rise, these risks will only grow unless long term protective measures are put in place.

It is also important to recognise the human side of these disasters. Climate change is not only about shifting weather patterns. It is about the people who must confront the consequences. In the aftermath of the recent events, Sri Lankans have shown remarkable courage. Families have worked together to clear debris, rebuild houses, restore livelihoods and comfort those in distress. Yet the burden has not been evenly distributed. Low income households, informal settlements and rural communities often face the greatest hardships. Many of them live in areas more prone to flooding and landslides. They also have fewer resources to recover when disasters strike. Climate change therefore deepens existing inequalities, making vulnerable groups even more exposed.

Children are among the worst affected. Schools often close for days or weeks after floods, interrupting education and adding stress to families already struggling with upheaval. Health risks rise as stagnant water becomes a breeding ground for mosquito borne diseases. Malnutrition can worsen when livelihoods are disrupted and food prices increase. Elderly people face additional risks because they may have difficulty moving quickly during emergencies or accessing medical care after the disaster.

In cities, extreme weather strains essential services. Heavy rains overwhelm drainage systems, causing urban flooding that brings traffic to a halt and damages vehicles and businesses.

Hospitals face sudden influxes of patients. Water treatment plants struggle to maintain supply when rivers overflow or become contaminated. Power outages become common as strong winds damage transmission lines. These disruptions show how deeply interconnected human systems are with the natural environment. When the climate changes, every part of society feels the impact.

Despite the grim realities, there is reason for hope. Sri Lanka has a long history of resilience. Communities have rebuilt after countless storms, droughts and conflicts. Today the country has access to better technology, stronger scientific knowledge and more global support than ever before. What is needed is a clear commitment to prepare for the future rather than react only after disasters strike.

One of the most promising strategies is early warning systems. Accurate forecasts can save lives by giving people the time they need to move to safety. Sri Lanka has already improved its meteorological capabilities, but there is still room to strengthen local communication networks so that warnings reach everyone, including those in remote areas or without internet access. Community education is equally important. When people understand what climate change means for their region, they can make informed choices about housing, farming and water use.

Infrastructure must also evolve. Drainage systems in many towns need upgrading to handle more intense rainfall. Riverbanks require reinforcement to prevent flooding. New buildings, particularly in risk prone zones, must follow safety standards that take climate change into account rather than relying on outdated assumptions about weather patterns. At the same time, restoring natural ecosystems can offer powerful protection. Replanting mangroves, preserving wetlands and maintaining forest cover all help buffer the impact of floods, storms and landslides. Nature is one of the most effective defences against extreme weather when it is allowed to function properly.

On a broader level, Sri Lanka will benefit from global efforts to slow climate change. The island is a small emitter of greenhouse gases compared to many industrialised nations, yet it bears a heavy share of the consequences. International cooperation is essential to reduce harmful emissions, invest in renewable energy and support adaptation in vulnerable countries. Sri Lanka can also strengthen its energy security by expanding solar, wind and other sustainable sources, which reduce dependence on fossil fuels that contribute to climate change.

However, even as governments and scientists work on long term solutions, the experience of ordinary Sri Lankans during the recent storms offers an important lesson. Climate change is not a distant threat. It is happening now. It is felt in flooded living rooms, damaged paddy fields, broken bridges and displaced families. It reshapes the choices parents make for their children and the fears felt by those who live close to rivers or hillsides. It influences food prices, housing stability and health. It is a lived reality, not just an environmental problem.

At its heart, the story of Sri Lanka’s extreme weather is a story about people trying to protect their homes and loved ones. It shows how a global crisis can land with fierce intensity on a small island. But it also reveals the strength of human solidarity. Neighbours rescuing neighbours. Strangers offering food and shelter. Volunteers stepping into danger to help those trapped in rising waters. This spirit of care will be essential in the years ahead as the climate continues to warm and weather events become even more unpredictable.

There is no single solution that will shield Sri Lanka from every future storm. Yet there are many steps the country can take to reduce risk, strengthen communities and build resilience. These efforts will require resources, planning and political will. They will demand cooperation across regions, sectors and generations. Above all, they will require recognising that climate change is not someone else’s problem. It is a shared challenge that demands collective responsibility.

The recent disasters have served as a warning and a call to action. They have shown how quickly weather can turn violent and how deeply it can disrupt daily life. But they have also shown the urgency of preparing for a hotter and more unpredictable world. Sri Lanka has the knowledge and the capability to adapt. Its people have the determination. If these strengths are harnessed with foresight and compassion, the country can chart a safer path through the stormy decades ahead.

Climate change may be reshaping the monsoon, but it does not have to dictate Sri Lanka’s destiny. With the right choices, the island can remain not only a place of natural beauty but also a place of resilience, hope and human connection in the face of a changing planet.

(The writer is an environmentalist.)

by Vincent David ✍️

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